“I’ll never renounce Christus,” said Nicholas.
“Of course not,” said Silvanus. “I wasn’t even thinking of that... You said your father had taken care of you... How well has he taken care of you?” The question sent a shiver down Nicholas’ spine. Silvanus went on, “I offered to protect them, you know. But Epiphanius would have nothing to do with it. Always so generous with drifters and slaves, but tightfisted with the ones who really matter.” Nicholas gazed into his face and saw the cold eyes of a killer.
“I’m sure you are much smarter than he,” said Silvanus. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement where no one would ever know of your fixation with this superstition. You can go on giving gifts in secret, but now they will go to me.”
Nicholas felt a strange calmness. For years he had prayed to find the killer of his parents, and now he looked him in the face. He may not have wielded the knife, but he surely gave the orders. It all made sense. He had wanted their wealth. The guards he had offered them would have spied it out, and he would have found some way of prying it away from them. But they didn’t play along, and for that, he killed them. Nicholas said, “I don’t need your silence. I want everyone to know I belong to Christus.”
Silvanus said, “Die if you wish, but no one will hear you speak.” He turned and stormed away. Hours passed. Nicholas wondered if Silvanus planned to leave him to die of thirst. He comforted himself in the thought that if this was his time to die, he would again be in the company of Eudora, in the presence of Christus.
At last, a slave came by at sunset with a blanket, a plate of bread and a skin of water. Nicholas thanked him and drew the meal into his cell. He then said, “Thank you Heavenly Father,” and devoured it. He couldn't help but think back on the simple lentil stews he had complained about in Bethlehem, and the chicken that tasted so good afterward. This bread was far more plain, yet it tasted better than even that chicken.
The days went by like this with the slave bringing him bread and water but saying nothing. Then one day Silvanus returned. He announced, “As an enemy of the gods, you have lost your citizenship. It was my duty to auction off your possessions: Your home, your estate in Patara and your fishing fleet. Strangely, no one else was interested in bidding on them, so I did Rome the favor of purchasing them.” He paused to let that sink in.
Nicholas said nothing. He expected this of Silvanus. In a strange way, it comforted him to know that his imprisonment for Christus would now be a matter of public record. Silvanus added, “All the freedmen who worked for you, the ones who would not bow to the gods, they are slaves again.” Nicholas felt his stomach tighten. He couldn’t help but frown. Their new slavery would not be easy.
“Of course not,” said Silvanus. “I wasn’t even thinking of that... You said your father had taken care of you... How well has he taken care of you?” The question sent a shiver down Nicholas’ spine. Silvanus went on, “I offered to protect them, you know. But Epiphanius would have nothing to do with it. Always so generous with drifters and slaves, but tightfisted with the ones who really matter.” Nicholas gazed into his face and saw the cold eyes of a killer.
“I’m sure you are much smarter than he,” said Silvanus. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement where no one would ever know of your fixation with this superstition. You can go on giving gifts in secret, but now they will go to me.”
Nicholas felt a strange calmness. For years he had prayed to find the killer of his parents, and now he looked him in the face. He may not have wielded the knife, but he surely gave the orders. It all made sense. He had wanted their wealth. The guards he had offered them would have spied it out, and he would have found some way of prying it away from them. But they didn’t play along, and for that, he killed them. Nicholas said, “I don’t need your silence. I want everyone to know I belong to Christus.”
Silvanus said, “Die if you wish, but no one will hear you speak.” He turned and stormed away. Hours passed. Nicholas wondered if Silvanus planned to leave him to die of thirst. He comforted himself in the thought that if this was his time to die, he would again be in the company of Eudora, in the presence of Christus.
At last, a slave came by at sunset with a blanket, a plate of bread and a skin of water. Nicholas thanked him and drew the meal into his cell. He then said, “Thank you Heavenly Father,” and devoured it. He couldn't help but think back on the simple lentil stews he had complained about in Bethlehem, and the chicken that tasted so good afterward. This bread was far more plain, yet it tasted better than even that chicken.
The days went by like this with the slave bringing him bread and water but saying nothing. Then one day Silvanus returned. He announced, “As an enemy of the gods, you have lost your citizenship. It was my duty to auction off your possessions: Your home, your estate in Patara and your fishing fleet. Strangely, no one else was interested in bidding on them, so I did Rome the favor of purchasing them.” He paused to let that sink in.
Nicholas said nothing. He expected this of Silvanus. In a strange way, it comforted him to know that his imprisonment for Christus would now be a matter of public record. Silvanus added, “All the freedmen who worked for you, the ones who would not bow to the gods, they are slaves again.” Nicholas felt his stomach tighten. He couldn’t help but frown. Their new slavery would not be easy.
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